


The Pull of the Light

by areyouarealmonster



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: (i love him and i would die for him), Hufflepuff Ash Tyler, M/M, Panic Attacks, eventual tylorca, hinted past canon sexual abuse, i just wanted to write fluff but instead ash has a panic attack in lorca's ready room, i'll post in the chapter notes when i update things though, just expect everything to change, people who think ash tyler is a klingon or a klingon spy don't interact, probably abandoned as of 2018, so you're not taken by surprise, star trek is bad actually, tags will change category will change rating will probably change, we get it ash you're gay!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-21 01:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyouarealmonster/pseuds/areyouarealmonster
Summary: Ash Tyler desperately wants everything to go back to normal. He wants to go back to his job, his position, his life. But he's been alone and tortured for seven months, and it's not that easy. Can the crew of his new home, the StarshipDiscovery, become his new family and help him work past his trauma?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will (hopefully, if I can get it together) be eventual Ash/Lorca, there will be a lot of Ash & Tilly friendship, probably some Ash & Michael friendship on the way.

Ash spends a few days in medical. A few days longer than he wants. He’d _wanted_ to spend five minutes in medical, but Dr. Culber wanted to run every possible test to see if there were any...adverse effects from his time on the Klingon ship.

 

The ship’s counselor stops in now and then, trying to get him to talk about what _happened_. The captain must have said something to her, because she won’t leave him alone. Ash doesn’t want to talk, though, he just wants to move on, move past this.

 

He _really_ wants to move past his disappointment at the fact that he hasn’t been cleared for active duty, and he has nothing to take his mind off the other disappointment—that Captain Lorca hasn’t been to see him since depositing him in medical.

 

Ash knows, of course, that the captain is a busy man. There’s a war on, after all, and Lorca is the captain of one of the most important ships in the fleet. Maybe _the_ most important ship. So, he’s definitely way too busy to check on a lowly lieutenant, stuck in an endless cycle of scans and hyposprays and boredom.

 

But that doesn’t stop Ash from wanting to see the captain. Lorca is the only person that Ash really knows on the ship, even if he’s getting to know the nice doctor. Dr. Culber is warm and kind, but he’s just doing his job. He’s not interested in being friends with Ash, as far as Ash can tell at the moment.

 

So Ash is mostly just lonely, something he’d hoped would end when he landed hard on the transporter pad and the captain immediately hurried over to put a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder. He’s been alone for seven months—well, alone as one can be with a rotation of cell mates, and the annoyingly constant presence of Harry Mudd.

 

Alone as one can be when a Klingon captain has taken an interest in you.

 

Ash shudders and pushes the memory away. _Discovery_ is his home now, he’s _safe_ here. Even if he’s alone, that’s better than the alternative. That’s better than the seven months of hell he went though.

 

Still, he can’t stop thinking about the warmth that spread through him in that cell when he realized that maybe, just maybe, Captain Lorca was who he’d been waiting for. That maybe, just maybe, Captain Gabriel Lorca could be his freedom.

 

And he was.

 

Dr. Culber cuts through Ash’s thoughts, walking over with that steady, warm gaze. “I know you’re ready to be out of here,” he says and Ash tries not to nod emphatically. He fails, and Dr. Culber gives him a small smile. “Yeah, sorry,” he says. “The captain wants you to be completely cleared, and I’m afraid that the counselor still hasn’t given her approval.”

 

Ash groans. “I just need to get back to work,” he insists. “Feeling useless isn’t helping whatever the counselor thinks I need help with.”

 

“I’m aware,” the doctor replies, sympathetically. “Which is why I’m clearing you on my end, so you can at least set up in your new quarters and you can get to know your shipmates. Counselor North and I agree on, at least, that continued isolation will do you no good.”

 

Ash feels a smile growing on his face. “I can go?” he asks, excited.

 

Dr. Culber nods. “Counselor North will be in touch to set up regular appointments, and you still won’t be cleared for duty, but you won’t be confined to medical, either.”

 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Ash says, his heart lifting for the first time since the captain disappeared during the first round of tests Dr. Culber ran on him. He swings his legs over the side of the cot and then looks down at the medical gown he's wearing.

 

“Oh, right!” Dr. Culber says, and bustles away. He returns quickly with a bundle of clothes in his hands.

 

Ash takes them gratefully and retreats to the bathroom to change into them. The doctor gave him a pair of fitted dark blue sweatpants and a t-shirt in a matching tone. The shirt has deltas on the sleeves and “DISCO” emblazoned across the front in white, block letters. Ash shakes his head as he puts it on. It’s cute, in a goofy kind of way, and he wonders how long it’s been a part of _Discovery_ ’s official uniform.

 

Mostly, he wonders if it’s Captain Lorca’s idea of a joke, or if it was something that predated him—after all, this was originally a science vessel. Scientists love their cheesy jokes. If truth be told, Ash loves them too. _Fuck_ , it’s nice to be out of that gloomy Klingon ship. He wants to surround himself with light and laughter, as much as he can. Even in the middle of a war, everyone needs that.

 

Everyone needs light. In any way they can have it, Ash corrects himself, thinking of his captain’s aversion to physical light. Emotional light is just as good, if not better. And in space, sometimes the only light you get is from the ever-cycling UV-mimicking ships lighting, and a healthy dose of extra Vitamin D from medical.

 

He slips his feet into the blue and white sneakers and walks back out into the main room, feeling better than he has all week. It’s nice to be in real clothes again, even if it’s not the uniform he’d like. Although, as much as he hates to admit it, it’s good to have a chance to get used to being in his own skin again, before getting back into what he wore for seven months straight. He doesn’t know what happened to _that_ uniform, but he hopes it was incinerated.

 

Even if the uniform he’d be wearing would be be freshly fabricated, it’s still nice to have something to ease him back into it. Something in between a medical gown and his Starfleet uniform.

 

Dr. Culber is waiting for him with instructions, and they’re not at all what Ash had been expecting.  “Now that you’ve been released, and you’re dressed, the captain would like to see you on the bridge,” he says.

 

Ash’s heart gives a flip, but he thinks he successfully hides his reaction. Instead, he nods, and listens to the doctor’s directions on how to get to the bridge. Starships generally have similar layouts, so he finds his way easily enough with that knowledge and with the doctor’s directions.

 

The doors of the turbolift slide open and Ash takes his first steps onto the bridge of the _Discovery_. It’s not the same as the bridge on the _Yeager_ , but the feeling is the same—soft beeps and blue lights and that buzz of energy that you can’t quite ever tell if it’s from the machinery or the people themselves.

 

It’s _home_.

 

“Ah, Lieutenant Tyler,” a tall alien says, taking a few steps toward Ash. “I hope you are feeling somewhat recovered.”

 

Ash nods. “Yes, thank you…” He trails off, unsure. He thinks this is a Kelpien, but he’s never had the chance to work with one before, so he’s not sure the correct way to address them, or if gendered terms are appropriate.

 

“Commander Saru, first officer of the _Discovery_ ,” the alien replies. Before Ash can respond, the alien continues, “The captain is waiting for you in his ready room.”

 

“Thank you, Commander,” Ash replies, and heads to the door that Saru had pointed out. He knocks, trying to ignore the eyes of the bridge crew on the back of his neck. He has no reason to be nervous, none at all.

 

“Come,” calls the unmistakable voice of Captain Lorca from behind the door. Ash does as he is told, walking in and letting the doors close behind him.

 

It’s dark in the ready room, like Ash had expected, but it’s still light enough to make out the form of his captain—well, technically he’s not cleared for duty, so Lorca isn’t _his_ commanding officer. Not yet, at least.

 

“Tyler,” Lorca says in greeting. He’s standing on the other side of the desk, the dark expanses of space stretched out behind him. Ash forgets how to breathe. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“I’m okay, sir,” Ash manages to force out.

 

Lorca nods, and picks up a wooden bowl that Ash hasn’t noticed before. “Cookie?” He holds out the bowl.

 

Did...did Lorca just offer him a cookie? Ash walks up to the table until he’s standing directly on the other side from the captain, and peers into the bowl. It is, indeed, fortune cookies. Ash looks up, confused, to see a small, mischievous smirk on Lorca’s face.

 

“Used to be a family business,” Lorca continues, putting the bowl down once he sees that Ash isn’t going to take a cookie. “Counselor North says you’ve been avoiding her.”

 

It takes Ash by surprise and he swallows. Of course, the doctors have been reporting to the captain. Of course, the captain didn’t forget about him. “Dr. Culber cleared me,” he replies, attempting to sweep over that topic.

 

But Lorca isn’t that easily distracted, or that easily swayed. He hums, his piercing eyes roving over Ash’s face. Ash is too well trained to squirm under an officer’s inspection, but this one is testing his limits. He’d forgotten, or maybe he never really knew, just how intense the captain can be.

 

They’d only known each other for a few hours, after all.

 

“The good doctor cleared you physically, but the counselor refuses to clear you on her end until you actually participate in your sessions,” Lorca continues after a minute.

 

Ash looks away, his eyes roving over the bare room as he tries to figure out what to say. There’s almost no decoration in the ready room, definitely no furniture except for the large desk parked off-center. A plant in the corner and a small vibrating ball of fuzz on the desk are the only decorations, besides the glowing, quietly pulsing screens.

 

“Tyler,” Lorca says again, his voice softening. “I know what you went through.”

 

The words cause Ash to shudder involuntarily. What a casual phrase: ‘what you went through.’ It sets Ash’s teeth on edge. He must zone out for a second because he blinks and suddenly Lorca is in front of him, a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Tyler, _Tyler_ ,” Lorca says, his words firm but kind. “ _Ash_ ,” he says, when Ash doesn’t respond.

 

Ash shivers, trying to take deep breaths.

 

“Hey, soldier, stay with me,” Lorca says, command seeping back into his tone. He’s trying to figure out what makes Ash snap out of his panic—and command seems to do the trick. Ash comes crashing back, looking straight into the captain’s ice-blue eyes. He’s overheating, even in the cool, dark room; heat spreading out from the hand on his shoulder and radiating out in waves through his body.

 

“Sir?” Ash asks, breathing hard. Lorca’s hand stays firm on his shoulder, and the heat keeps radiating, but Ash doesn’t comment on it. It’s grounding him, slowly pulling him back down.

 

“Was that a panic attack?” Lorca asks. Ash shrugs, he’s not sure. “Have you ever had one before?” Ash shakes his head, no. “ _This_ is why I want you to talk to the counselor, Tyler. I need to not worry about my crew, and that includes you.”

 

Ash swallows. “I’m not on your crew, sir,” he manages. “Not officially.”

 

“You’re on my ship,” Lorca says, taking his hand from Ash’s shoulder. “You’re my responsibility. And…” He steps back, turning to his desk and running a hand over the small vibrating ball of fluff. It chirrups in response. “You saved my life, Tyler. I owe you for that.”

 

All the energy pours out of Ash all of a sudden and he leans heavily against the desk, wishing that there was somewhere for him to sit in the ready room.

 

Lorca seems to hear Ash’s thoughts, or at least sense them, because he walks over to the wall and presses a button. A low bench whirrs out of the wall and Ash stumbles over to it, almost falling. Lorca catches him and lowers him gently down to seated. The captain kneels, this time placing both his hands on Ash’s biceps.

 

“Talk to me,” Lorca commands. Ash wants to, he really does, but he can’t get the words out. His mouth opens and closes a few times before the captain sighs and stands up, circling back around to the desk to pick up the small fluffy thing and deposit it in Ash’s hands. “This is a tribble,” he says. “They’re, ah, _soothing_.”

 

Ash wraps himself around the small thing, not worrying how it will look to the captain. Lorca’s already seen him at his worst, already knows...enough. He can pity Ash, he can think Ash is weak, it’s already too late to change that.

 

The vibration reminds Ash of a cat purring. He grew up with cats—pets and strays alike. The captain is right, this is soothing. He realizes suddenly that _he_ is shaking, that it’s mingling with the vibration from the creature—the tribble. Ash focuses on the tribble, on sussing out the rhythm of the motion, on ways to pat it so it makes that soft chirruping sound it had made for the captain before.

 

After a few minutes, Ash stops shaking. He looks up to find that Lorca hasn’t moved an inch, but is still standing there, waiting, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Feel better?” he asks.

 

Ash nods, not trusting himself to speak.

 

“Good.” Lorca takes a step back to lean against the desk, still facing Ash. “I understand why you’re itching to be cleared, Tyler. I know that getting back to work can feel like the answer to all your problems. Hell, I pushed them to clear me now, when both my CMO and Counselor North wanted me to have at least another week off duty. But your situation and mine are different, soldier. Now, I’m assigning you private quarters, no roommate. You’ve earned that, and Counselor North wants you to try it, but if you don’t think that’ll work out for you, you let me or her know, understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Ash says.

 

“And I want you to talk to Cadet Sylvia Tilly,” Lorca continues. “She knows everyone on the ship, and she makes it her mission to, ah, look after strays.”

 

“Do you think I’m a stray, sir?” Ash asks.

 

Lorca’s eyes bore into him. “I think you need people around you, to help you start to feel normal again,” he says. “I know _I_ did, after…”

 

“After the _Buran_?”

 

The captain inclines his head in a short nod. “Yes. Having good people around you can, uh, can make you feel like the walls aren’t closing in quite as much.”

 

The words slip out before Ash can stop them: “Do you have good people around you?” Then he winces, looking down at his hands. Of course the captain does; he has his bridge crew, his first officer, his team.

 

When there’s no immediate response, Ash glances back up. Lorca seems torn between amused and thoughtful. “I do,” he says, when Ash meets his eyes. “But I could always use more.”

 

_Is that_ — “Sir?”

 

“I often eat my meals alone,” Lorca says. “The galley is too bright, and I don’t want to inconvenience my crew by changing their environment to suit my narrow, specific needs. If the noise or the crowd get to be too much for you, feel free to join me for meals.”

 

Oh. Ash struggles to his feet, the tribble tucked into the crook of his arm. “Thank you, sir,” he says, trying to stand tall and straight, even though his whole body feels like jelly.

 

“At ease, soldier,” Lorca commands, a small smile on his face. Ash relaxes slightly, wrapping both arms around the small alien creature. “Wasn’t a formal request. In fact, while you’re not cleared for duty, you’re a guest on my ship. We can relax with _some_ of the formalities, at least in here. For now. Especially while you’re wearing that.” Lorca smirks, gesturing to Ash’s casual wear.

 

It shocks a small smile out of Ash, and he finally feels recovered enough to be embarrassed. “ _Sorry_ ,” he says, trying to push through the embarrassment, “someone hasn’t cleared me for active duty, so I don’t have a real uniform.”

 

Lorca actually laughs at that, and Ash feels a small burst of happiness, or maybe pride. He still kind of embarrassed at himself though, and he places the tribble gently down on the desk and prepares to leave.

 

“I might take you up on that, sir—uh…” Ash trails off, unsure if that lessening of formalities extends to respectful titles.

 

“You can still call me sir, if you like. Or you can just call me Lorca.”

 

“Not Gabriel?” Ash asks, and then winces again. Seven months is a long time, and he's gotten used to keeping his mouth shut entirely. Now that he can talk again, more freely, the words just spill out.

 

“Gabriel is for my parents, my friends, my ex-wife, and my theoretical and nonexistent partner,” Lorca replies, clearly amused. “You're none of those, right now. We'll see if that changes, and reassess if it does.”

 

“Sorry, sir,” Ash says, even more embarrassed. “Didn't mean to be so forward.”

 

Lorca shrugs. “Dispensing with some of the formalities also means you have my permission to speak your mind. In private, of course; there will be no challenging me in front of my crew, but you're welcome to speak up when we're alone.”

 

“I can do that,” Ash says. “I should, uh, let you get back to—”

 

“Captain things?” Lorca finishes with a small smirk.

 

“Yeah, that.”

 

“The computer can show you where your room is,” Lorca explains. “I'm not sure exactly where you've been assigned but, like I said, feel free to come to me or Counselor North if there are any issues.”

 

“Thank you, _Lorca_ ,” Ash says, and holds out his hand. “For everything.”

 

Lorca shakes his hand firmly, calluses and scars rough against Ash’s own. “Whatever you need,” the captain replies.

 

Ash walks out, onto and then out of the bridge, in search of his new living quarters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash tries to settle in on the ship, with the help from his bubbly new friend, Cadet Sylvia Tilly. But settling in isn't as easy as that, and Ash takes comfort in a quiet dinner with the captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we're officially getting into Tylorca territory so I've updated the tags to reflect this! Content warning is the same as it will be throughout, but the discussion of canon past sexual abuse is a bit more clear in this chapter.

The computer leads him to a small room in a quiet area of the ship. It’s definitely designed for one person, unlike his previous room on the _Yeager_. He shakes off the memory of his former roommate so he doesn’t have to think about the fact that Jae is long dead. You lose people, in war, he reminds himself.

 

Ash looks around the bare room, the silence sinking in. There’s something disconcerting about the emptiness—not that he really had a lot of important possessions in the past, since there’s not much room for clutter on a starship. It’s just that it all feels a little more real, that he’s lost everything and everyone that he considered part of him.

 

It’s just little things, but he thinks about having to rebuild his personal preferences on his portal on the computer, about having to adjust his room settings to the way he likes them, about what settings synced over from the _Yeager_ , what reading materials he may have still stored on the server, and what he may have lost.

 

All his stuff might be there, but starships are pretty insular, and most doesn’t get synced or carried over, even when the ship is docked at a station. He hasn’t had the heart to check his portal, to see what he may have left on it.

 

There’s a sudden knocking on the door, quick and light. Confused, Ash calls for them to come in. The door slides open to reveal a burst of red hair and a glowing smile, attached to a cute female-presenting human cadet, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

 

“Are you Lieutenant Tyler?” she asks, her voice light and quick.

 

Ash nods. “Yeah, hi?”

 

“Hi! I’m Cadet Sylvia Tilly. Captain Lorca requested I check in on you, so I’m here to welcome you! Well, I mean, you’ve been on the ship for a few days, but, like, you’ve been in medical, and Dr. Culber didn’t think it was a great idea for me to come introduce myself in case I was bugging you but now the captain says I should definitely come say hi, so here I am, saying hi!” She doesn’t seem at all winded by her winding and fast sentences.

 

Ash, on the other hand, feels slightly out of breath as a result. “Oh, okay. Uh, hi.” He steps forward, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Tilly beams at him as she shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you, too! How are you settling in?”

 

Ash glances around at his empty room. “Well, I just got here, so I haven’t really started yet.”

 

“Oh, I can help! I mean, uh, if you want my help.”

 

The cadet looks so hopeful that Ash’s heart goes out to her. She seems sweet, and genuine, and just the kind of person he likes to surround himself with. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees.

 

Tilly lets out an excited noise. “Okay, wanna go to the synthesizer? I can show you where it is and you can get some clothes and some, well, whatever you need!”

 

Her excitement is contagious, and Ash makes a mental note to thank Lorca later. This is exactly what he needed, and he lets Tilly loop her arm through his as she drags him down the corridors toward the synthesizer room, chattering the whole way.

 

She asks him about his family, his past, his previous ship, and he finds that answering is easy and not as painful as he would have expected. He talks with her about growing up on Earth, figuring out their similarities and differences in upbringing. He talks with her about Starfleet Academy, about their different tracks—his in operations and hers in command.

 

She tells him about the war, about Michael Burnham—the mutineer—about the state of Starfleet, about what she can tell him about what _Discovery_ is doing.

 

It keeps his mind occupied as the synthesizer prints up casual wear, pajamas, toiletries, and a few uniforms that he can wear when he gets cleared again for duty.

 

“So, like, you saved the captain’s life,” Tilly says, as she and Ash gather all the items into their arms to tote them back to Ash’s quarters.

 

Ash nods, and then shrugs. “He saved my life, too. So, uh, I guess we saved each other.” It sounds kind of corny to say it, but it’s true.

 

“That’s so cool!” Tilly dumps her pile on Ash’s bed and starts to randomly put things away. Most of the places she puts things were not where Ash would put that thing, but he smiles and lets her do it. He can always fix it later, if he really feels the need to. “What’s the captain like? I mean—he’s the _captain_ , like, I’ve _seen_ him. I’ve even talked to him a few times, and like, obviously he told me to go find you, but...what’s he really _like_?”

 

He thinks for a second, neatly folding his clothes and putting them away in drawers. “Brave,” he answers finally.

 

Tilly giggles. “I knew that! That’s obvious! What else?”

 

Ash thinks about his brief time with Lorca, about the hand on his shoulder, Lorca grasping his arms. He thinks about Lorca handing him the tribble, and standing at his side until he’d calmed down. “I think he’s kind,” Ash says, tentatively. “But he’s not sure how to show it, really. He cares about his crew, but he doesn’t really know how to do that in a, in a way that people see.”

 

“Really?” Tilly asks, looking at him curiously. “But you see it?”

 

“Uh…” Ash doesn’t know how to answer that without it sounding inappropriate. He realizes as he thinks back that what happened in the ready room could possibly be seen by others as the start of a flirtation. Not that he _doesn’t_ want that, but the captain doesn’t need people spreading rumors about him. “Yeah, I guess,” he says, hoping that a vague answer will prevent Tilly from asking any more questions.

 

Luckily, she gets distracted by the soft chiming that indicates a meal time, and her face lights up. “You wanna grab food? I can introduce you to some really cool people!”

 

“Sure, okay,” Ash answers, grateful for the timing, and lets her drag him to the mess hall.

 

He barely steps foot through the door of the galley when the sound hits him like a brick. Ash almost staggers as he stops dead in the doorway.

 

“Lieutenant?” Tilly asks, her sweet voice worried.

 

Ash backs up until he’s in the hallway, and then he leans against the wall, breathing hard.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ash says, trying to wave her off. She’s too close, she’s crowding him, and he needs to breathe. Thankfully, she takes a step back, and he catches his breath. “I don’t think I can do the mess hall today, Tilly,” he says.

 

She nods, sympathy written all over her face. “Do you want me to bring you food?” she asks.

 

Ash shakes his head. “I’ve got, uh, other options,” he says, thinking about Lorca’s offer. He hopes it’s not too soon to take the captain up on that, and that he doesn’t seem to eager by doing so. “You go ahead,” he says, gesturing at the door.

 

“Are you sure?” Tilly asks. She’s hovering, and she doesn’t seem to want to leave him alone. It’s sweet, but Ash just wants to breathe for a second.

 

“I’m sure, thank you,” he tells her, trying to sound as sincere as he is.

 

Tilly reaches out to touch his shoulder, and then thinks better of it. She shakes her hand out awkwardly and then nods. “Okay, well, if you need anything, just let me know!”

 

Ash gives her a weak smile before she turns and walks into the galley. Once she’s gone, he stays against the cool wall for a minute, trying to regain his composure. He’s not sure he succeeds, but the footsteps coming down the hall in his direction get him up and moving towards the nearest computer portal.

 

“Computer, ask Captain Lorca if that offer of joining him for meals is still open,” he says quietly.

 

The computer beeps and responds quickly with a message to join the captain in his quarters. That was fast, and also slightly unexpected. Ash had expected meals to be in the ready room, but the captain must be off-shift. He feels a thrill of excitement as he walks in the direction the computer showed him. After a week of not seeing the captain at all, he gets to see Lorca twice in one day.

 

Not that he’s realizing that he’s nursing quite a bit of a crush on the captain. No, not at all.

 

Okay, maybe.

 

Definitely.

 

Lorca had said they would reassess what Ash gets to call him if they became something more. He also didn’t specify if he was referring to the ‘friend’ or the ‘partner’ option, for people who are allowed to call him ‘Gabriel.’ And he’d specified an ex-wife, but used a gender-neutral term in ‘partner.’

 

It’s not good to hope, though, not in cases like this, and Ash shakes his head to clear it. It’s probably just a bit of hero worship, mixed with the fact that Lorca saved his life. The gentle but firm touches since then haven’t helped, and neither has the fact that Lorca is very enjoyable to look at.

 

Yeah, Ash is pretty far gone already.

 

He knocks when he gets to the captain’s quarters, located almost directly under the bridge. He’s never been into a captain’s quarters before, and he’s not sure what to expect when Lorca opens the doors.

 

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Lorca asks, gesturing Ash inside.

 

It takes Ash a second to puzzle out what Lorca means. “Oh, the mess hall? Yeah. I forgot how loud it could be.”

 

Lorca doesn’t respond immediately, and Ash takes the chance to look around. The main room is almost as sparse as the ready room. _Almost_. There’s at least more furniture, including a couch and a round table with three chairs...and the bed, only half-hidden behind artfully-designed patterned screens.

 

Ash swallows and pulls his attention away to the room as a whole. It’s dim, just like the ready room, and just like Ash had anticipated, but the walls that aren’t taken up by windows are full of artwork instead of screens.

 

Ash walks over to the wall to make out the thin, light lines of anatomical drawings—aliens, both humanoid and the farthest from.

 

“I like to know how things work,” Lorca says, coming over to stand by him. “Any food preferences?”

 

Ash thinks for a second. “No pork,” he says, “but otherwise...I don’t even really know what meal it is, right now.”

 

“I don’t eat pork either and for day shift, it’s dinner,” Lorca says, walking over to his personal synthesizer—perks of being captain—and pauses, considering. “Chicken and rice dish?” he asks. “Maybe with, uh, lemongrass? Or ginger?”

 

“Lemongrass sounds good,” Ash answers. “Kosher?” he asks, in response to Lorca’s comment about pork.

 

Lorca inclines his head and gives the computer instructions before responding, “Mostly,” to Ash. “Still love a good cheeseburger. You?”

 

“Halal,” Ash says. “Mostly.”

 

The captain chuckles. “I know it’s synthesized, but it still feels wrong to eat it.”

 

Ash hums in agreement, focusing back on the anatomical drawings on the wall. He’s starting to feel nervous about being alone with the captain, in Lorca’s quarters. Not nervous in a bad way, more like butterflies. His mouth feels dry, his hands feel clammy, and he _really_ needs to get a hold of himself.

 

He’s not some swooning child, stepping foot on a starship for the first time, stars in their eyes for the ship and the crew and, most of all, the captain. Everyone on a starship falls for their captain at some point, though, and it was stupid of Ash to think he could have avoided it.

 

Especially not with a captain like Lorca.

 

“Tyler?”

 

Ash turns around to see that Lorca has set the food on the table. “Sorry, sir,” he says automatically, “I should have offered to help.”

 

“Shut up and sit down,” Lorca says, an amused glint in his eyes.

 

“Yes, sir.” Ash says, and does so.

 

“So,” the captain says, in between bites, “did Cadet Tilly hunt you down?”

 

“She did,” Ash responds. “She’s very, uh, bubbly.”

 

Lorca nods, amused. “She is that. Did she give you a good tour?”

 

“Just to the synthesizer,” Ash says. “Not really much time for anything else.”

 

As soon as Ash takes another bite of chicken, Lorca asks, “Did you make an appointment with Counselor North yet?”

 

Ash doesn’t quite choke on his food, but it’s a close call. He swallows and nervously wipes his hands on his napkin. “I haven’t had a chance yet.”

 

“First thing tomorrow,” Lorca says, “and _that’s_ an order.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Ash says, automatically. But...fuck, he doesn’t want to. He wants to forget the last seven months, pretend they never happened. Ash shakes his head. “You’re not my commanding officer yet, _Lorca_.”

 

Instead of getting angry, like Ash had half-expected, Lorca flashes him a sharp grin. Ash is pretty sure he should be intimidated by it, but he’s mostly just turned on. “You’re on _my_ ship, Tyler. You _will_ follow my orders or I will drop your ass on the nearest station and leave you there to rot.”

 

“No, you won’t,” Ash says, emboldened by the mischievous glint in Lorca’s eyes.

 

Lorca stands up. “Are you challenging me, soldier?” He’s still not angry, and Ash is still more into it than intimidated.

 

Ash stands, too, as Lorca stalks forward. He holds his ground, but Lorca, lightning-fast, presses a forearm against Ash’s neck, slightly below his windpipe, and pushes. Ash lets himself be pushed back until he hits the wall and, fuck, this is hot.

 

“Now, Tyler,” Lorca says, his voice a low growl, “this is all fun and games, and I do enjoy it when people _try_ to stand up to me, but—” his voice loses the amused edge and turns hard— “you _will_ see Counselor North or I _will_ kick your ass off this ship, are we _clear_?”

 

Fuck, Ash wants nothing more than to lean forward and kiss Lorca. This doesn’t feel like some bullshit posturing, this feels _charged_ —or it did, until Lorca turned it serious again. Ash still feels overwhelmed, like he’s vibrating all over. “Yes, sir,” Ash says, again, only barely keeping his voice level.

 

For a split second, Lorca’s eyes seem to flick down to Ash’s lips and then back up to his eyes, but Ash doesn’t have a second to dwell on it because Lorca steps back just as quickly, the lingering pressure of his arm—just under where it could have caused serious harm—leaving Ash cold and aching.

 

“Good,” Lorca says, and turns sharply to sit back down in his seat at the table.

 

Oh, right, _food_. They were eating. Ash swallows hard and pushes off the wall to go back to his seat.

 

The two of them finish their meal in silence, as Ash tries to catch his breath. Fuck, that did not help his growing crush on the captain. Well, growing isn’t exactly the right term—it’s in full bloom. He’s in over his head and he doesn’t want to leave.

 

Lorca finishes eating and puts his silverware down. Ash glances up to see that Lorca has leaned back in his chair and is examining Ash, his eyes intently focused and considering. “Sir?” he asks.

 

“Why did you become a security officer, Tyler?” Lorca asks, his gaze sharp.

 

Ash wasn’t expecting that. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. “I, uh—”

 

“Because a lot of the security officers I’ve worked with, they feel like they’ve got something to prove. They’re gruff and standoffish, but you…” Lorca doesn’t finish that train of thought, to Ash’s disappointment. He wants to know what Lorca thinks of him. “You could’ve become a pilot, or any number of things. Why security?”

 

Ash takes another bite of his food and a sip of his water to collect his thoughts. Then he says, “I wanted to keep my friends safe.”

 

“You can do that in a lot of ways, Tyler. People become security officers because they like to hit things, not to save people.”

 

“I’ll hit things if I have to,” Ash says. “I’m good at that. I’m not good enough at science to save lives with that, I’m a decent pilot but it’s not...it’s not enough. I want to have my crew’s back, as much as I can. I want to keep them safe while they’re exploring, while they’re gathering new knowledge and learning new things.”

 

“So you’re not here because you want to kill Klingons?” Lorca asks.

 

Ash shakes his head. “I don’t want to kill anyone, sir. I will if I have to—and you know that I will. You’ve seen it. But it’s not why I’m here.”

 

“Even though the Klingons tortured you for seven months?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Even though they blew up your ship, your home, and murdered your captain?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Lorca hums, thoughtful. “Do you want revenge?” he asks.

 

Ash considers that. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Revenge kind of implies that I, that I blame someone for, uh, what happened.”

 

“You don’t?” Lorca asks. Ash shakes his head. “There are plenty of people you could blame, if you wanted to. This happened to you because of the war, and Michael Burnham started the war, do you blame her?”

 

“No,” Ash replies. “You make decisions in the heat of the moment. She did what she thought was right in the moment. I don’t fault her for that.”

 

“You know she’s on this ship, right?” Lorca asks.

 

Ash nods. “Cadet Tilly told me, earlier.”

 

“Cadet Tilly might be biased about our dear mutineer,” Lorca tells him, an amused half-smile on his face.

 

“Is she wrong?” Ash asks.

 

“No.”

 

“Then I don’t blame Burnham.”

 

“What about your captain?” Lorca asks.

 

“ _You’re_ my captain, sir,” Ash shoots back. He gets a sharp glare for his troubles, so he backs up and answers the question that Lorca was actually asking. “Like I said, people make decisions in the heat of the moment. He, like Burnham, did the best he could with the situation he was given.”

 

“His defeat led to your capture,” Lorca says, as if Ash could ever forget. “He failed you and the rest of his crew, and you still don’t blame him?”

 

“No, I don’t. He gave his life for us, and it wasn’t enough, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t give up everything in the hopes that it would save us.” Ash feels the words start to stick at the back of his throat and he takes another sip of his water, because he knows that Lorca isn’t going to stop, not while he’s on the warpath.

 

“And we’ve already established that you don’t hate the Klingons as a whole, but what about, uh, what was her name?” Lorca keeps his voice light, but Ash can tell he’s being careful about his words.

 

Ash opens his mouth to say the name— _her_ name, but chokes on it. He tries to swallow his cough, tries to drink water to make it stop. He glances up as he catches his breath and sees that Lorca is looking at him with worry in his eyes. “L’Rell,” he finally manages to say. “Her name was L’Rell.”

 

Lorca just looks at him for a few seconds, taking in the watering eyes that Ash can only half-blame on the coughing. “Do you blame her?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Ash spits out, surprising himself with his own vehemence, his voice rough from his coughing fit.

 

“Ah,” Lorca says, an eyebrow quirking up. “So you do blame _someone_.”

 

Ash wants to be furious, but all the anger pours out of him just as quickly as it appeared. “I do, but...but it’s also the reason I’m still _alive_.” He looks down so he doesn’t have to see what the captain thinks about his words.

 

A hand brushes against his arm and then rests lightly on his forearm. Ash tries not to shiver at the touch, but he is pretty sure he does lean into it instinctively. “Do you blame yourself?” Lorca asks, his voice so low that Ash has to strain to hear it.

 

Oh. Ash looks back up, meeting the concern in the captain’s eyes with what he’s sure is a look of complete and utter pain. “I don’t know,” he admits, and then pauses. Lorca doesn’t respond; he seems to be waiting for Ash to think it through. “I know, uh, intellectually I _know_ it’s not because of anything I did.”

 

“ _Good_. But?”

 

“But...she picked _me_.” Ash feels his eyes welling up and a knot rising in his throat and he’s not sure he can stand much more of this.

 

The hand is removed from his forearm and Ash hates how much he misses the loss of it, but before he can really feel the loss acutely, he hears Lorca’s chair scoot against the floor. He glances up just in time to see Lorca’s pained expression as the older man wraps strong arms around Ash.

 

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” Lorca says, his voice gruff but kind. “Don’t blame yourself.”

 

All the emotions Ash had been trying to hold in start to pour out, and he collapses into Lorca’s arms, sobbing into the captain’s shoulder.

 

“I’ve got you,” Lorca mutters against Ash’s hair. “You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re _home_.” He keeps up the rhythm, muttering affirmations and hope until Ash is all cried out and left hollow and shaking in his captain’s arms.

 

_Home_ , Ash thinks, Lorca’s arms wrapped tight around him.

 

“You’ll go see Counselor North, first thing?” Lorca asks, his voice still soft.

 

Ash nods and sniffles, pulling back. He wipes at his eyes and tries not to look at the damp spot on the captain’s shoulder. “I will.”

 

Lorca reaches out and cups Ash’s cheek in his hand. “ _Good_ ,” he says, his thumb brushing against Ash’s cheekbone for a brief second before he pulls back, clearing his throat. “You should get some sleep. And I’ve got some work to do before I turn in myself.”

 

It’s a dismissal, but not an unkind one. Ash _is_ exhausted now. He nods, rubbing a hand down his face and scrubbing away the tears still lingering there. “Thank you, Lorca,” he says, his voice small and quiet.

 

Lorca reaches out and squeezes his shoulder briefly. “Whatever you need,” he says.

 

Ash nods and hurries out the door, back to his quarters, trying to leave the guilt and pain curled up deep in his stomach behind him in the captain’s quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash tries to sleep, talks to Counselor North, has fun with new friends, and spends a bit more quality time with the captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains more hints at canon past sexual abuse.

It doesn’t work. The silence in Ash’s quarters is oppressive. The sheets are soft and he sinks into the mattress so much that he feels weightless. It’s disconcerting.

 

His stomach aches—not from the food he’d had, but from the emotions churning in his gut. He tosses and turns, but he can’t get comfortable. It had been easier to sleep in sickbay, with the hum of the equipment and the buzz of the medical officers. It had been easier to sleep on that too-hard cot, even easier with the added pharmaceutical help.

 

Ash has none of that here. All he has is the ringing silence, the darkness, and the sheets that feel slimy against his bare arms. He knows the sheets aren’t really soft, they’ve never been soft. They’re scratchy and too thick or too thin depending on the day, but he’d gotten used to them—before.

 

Before the Klingon ship, before sleeping on the floor for seven months, before...before _her_.

 

Ash closes his eyes in the dark, in the softness, and sees her, sees L’Rell. He’s alone and he has no defenses and she’s _there_ —and he sits bolt upright, panting.

 

“Computer, lights,” he says, his voice shaking. The lights slowly come up to the muted glow of night mode as Ash tries to catch his breath.

 

This is _not_ going to work. He needs to ease into this, to take it one step at a time.

 

Well, what he really needs is...company. Comfort. He wants strong arms around him, like the captain’s arms after dinner. And of course he wants Lorca’s arms around him in other ways, but this isn't about that. Not right now.

 

The captain is the only person who's touched him in a non-medical capacity since _her_ , and Ash has always been tactile. He loves touch—touching and being touched. He still does, after everything, which is a miracle in and of itself. So even if he weren't slowly falling for his captain, Lorca's touch still would be something he'd ache for.

 

He could always ask.

 

For what, though? To share Lorca's bed? That's a line, maybe, too far. Lorca may want Ash to be more relaxed and casual when they're alone, but that's a level of intimacy Ash doesn't feel comfortable asking for.

 

Maybe he could ask Tilly, when he knows her better. She seems like she might be okay with it, and understand that it's just platonic. Just something to help Ash sleep.

 

In the meantime…

 

Something's gotta give. Something needs to change so Ash can have a better chance of falling asleep.

 

The bed is the most obvious one. He pulls the blankets off his bed and the other, empty bed and piles them on the floor. A few underneath and one on top. It won't do anything about the feel of them against his skin, but it will belay the feeling of weightlessness a bit.

 

He walks over to the panel and turns the lights down even further, to a low simmer. If he opens his eyes in a panic at least he'll be able to see what's going on—that's he's safe and alone.

 

He'll be able to see that, maybe Lorca isn't there to hold him, but at least L’Rell isn't either. And she won't ever be again.

 

Ash falls asleep with the memory of the captain's arms around him, keeping _her_ at bay.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn't sleep _well_ but at least he _sleeps_.

 

He’d tossed and turned the whole night, but he got enough hours to drag himself off the floor, into the shower, and then out to snag a breakfast sandwich, which he eats on his way to see Counselor North.

 

Her door is open and he peeks his head in. “Counselor?” he asks.

 

“Ah, Mr. Tyler,” she says, with her usual calm, kind smile. “The captain told me you’d be making an appearance this morning, he’ll be glad to hear you made it. Please,” she continues, gesturing to the open chair, “sit down.”

 

Ash does so, wiping his palms nervously on the plain blue jumpsuit that’s close enough to his uniform that he doesn’t feel out of place, but far enough away from it that he’s definitely not on duty. The door slides shut behind him, cocooning him in the soft, warm lights of the room.

 

Everything about the counseling room has been engineered to be comforting and soothing, and it works. Ash is still groggy from the night before, and he feels his barriers lower and his heart slow and calm.

 

“How are you feeling?” Counselor North asks, after peering at him for a minute.

 

“ _Off_ ,” Ash answers, the word slipping out before he can edit himself. “Uh, I mean…” He trails off. He’s not sure _what_ he means.

 

Counselor North waits for a moment, letting him collect his thoughts, before she continues: “Captain Lorca says you might blame yourself for what happened to you. Do you want to talk about it?”

 

No, he really doesn’t. He really doesn’t want to go into it, really doesn’t want to break again. But she’s looking at him with no judgement, and the shame is bubbling up in him and he supposes he may as well knock down the walls.

 

“Okay,” he says, and takes a hammer to the dam, letting it all pour out.

 

* * *

 

 

Three hours later Ash is exhausted—both physically and emotionally—and _starving_. Counselor North had offered him lunch there, but Ash had turned her down. He needs a break, and she’d agreed that was probably the right choice. They’ll meet back up tomorrow morning, and the day after, and the day after, until they move to every other day, then twice a week, than once a week.

 

After that, they’ll reassess, but the counselor doesn’t see the sessions stopping any time soon. At least she thinks he’ll be cleared for duty relatively soon, when they move to once a week.

 

Well, relatively soon by her standards. Ash knows she’s trying to push him to open up faster. They both agree that getting back on duty and having something to do to occupy his time will help Ash get back on track. But there’s a lot they have to get through first, and it will probably still be longer than Ash would like before he’s cleared.

 

And longer than the captain would like, apparently. Counselor North had let slip that Lorca has a specific job in mind for Ash when he’s cleared, although she didn’t specify what it was. She did say that the captain made sure to mention that Ash’s mental state was the most important thing, not whatever job he has in mind. So even though Lorca wants Ash to be _better_ faster, he knows that it’ll happen when it happens.

 

Ash isn’t sure how to feel about this. To know that Lorca has plans for him makes him feel warm inside, but it also makes him impatient to get this over with. You can’t rush getting over trauma, Ash knows this, of course he does, but he just wants to be done with it and move on.

 

Move on, as if he’ll ever truly be free.

 

He plans to stop into the mess hall to grab food and take it with him back to his quarters, similar to what he did for breakfast on the way to his appointment, but his plans are waylaid by a familiar excited voice coming down a connecting hallway. Tilly, in conversation with another, quieter voice that Ash can’t quite make out.

 

Ash slows, matching the pace of their voices so they all reach the junction of the hallway at the same time.

 

“Aah!” Tilly lets out in an excited squeal. Ash smiles kindly at her as she flounders for a second in her excitement. “Tyler! Hi! I mean Lieutenant, I mean—”

 

“ _Tilly_ ,” the other person says, in a quiet and long-suffering voice. Ash hears a hint, more than a hint, of fondness in her voice, though, and he grins at her, as well.

 

“Tyler is fine. Or Ash,” he says, since there’s no need for formality right now, not with him off-duty and technically without rank for the moment. And Tilly seems like she might turn out to be a lifelong friend. “Nice to meet you,” he continues, holding out his hand to the woman—also lacking rank insignia, although her uniform tells him she’s sciences—next to Tilly.

 

“Michael,” she says, carefully and boldly, as if she’s baring her throat by saying it. A challenge and an apology, and Ash knows exactly why.

 

“Michael Burnham?” he asks, just to make sure. She nods, meeting his eyes but not taking his hand. Ash keeps his out as he says, “Nice to meet you, Michael Burnham.”

 

“Is it?” she asks.

 

“ _Michael_ ,” Tilly hisses. Michael ignores her.

 

“It is,” Ash insists. “I tend to asses people in the here and now,” he explains. “You’re a functioning crew member of a Federation starship, _this_ starship. Captain Lorca wants you here for a reason, and I trust his judgement.”

 

Michael looks at him carefully. Her gaze is steady and calculating, and reminds him a bit of Lorca in its intensity. She doesn’t seem to be one to make snap decisions, and Ash hopes that whatever decision she comes to about him is a good one. If she’s Tilly’s friend, then he wants her to like him as well.

 

After another few seconds of considering—and a not-as-subtle-as-she-thinks elbow to the side from Tilly—Michael reaches out and takes Ash’s still-outstretched hand.

 

Tilly beams at the two of them. “Tyler, you should join us for lunch!”

 

All Ash wants to do is snag a plate of food and curl up in his room for a nap, but...Tilly’s smile is so welcoming, and Michael doesn’t seem to mind. Plus, as much as Ash craves quiet, he also craves company. He’s been alone for so long, without any human company that wasn’t on the verge of death, or the slimy Harry Mudd.

 

And right now, Ash can’t think of anyone’s company he’d want more than these two souls.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, and lets Tilly loop her arm through his and drag him into the galley.

 

“ _Tilly and Tyler_ ,” Tilly crows in a sing-song voice, “ _off to conquer the mess hall!_ ”

 

Ash laughs and catches a small smile from Michael out of the corner of his eye as she follows the two of them into the galley.

 

They collect their food and head to a table. Ash is trying to rebuild his strength, and his plate is piled high with a variety of proteins and greens. Michael seems to be half meal-planning for Tilly in an effort to build Tilly’s strength and muscle mass up as well, and the two of them get the same meal.

 

Tilly makes a face but settles down to eat it without complaint, although she does eye Ash’s plate with a bit of envy. He’d offer some to her but he thinks Michael might lecture him, and he’d rather avoid that on their first meeting, so he lets her take charge of her roommate’s lunch.

 

“So,” Tilly starts, looking up from eyeing her food suspiciously, “were you able to get dinner at some point last night, Tyler?”

 

Ash almost chokes on his green drink, but he manages to swallow it down. “I did,” he says. He’s not sure how much the captain wants his crew to know about their...friendship? Close acquaintanceship? He hopes Tilly doesn’t pry any further, but she is definitely naturally curious, so she, of course, does.

 

“Later, when the mess was quieter?” she asks.

 

“Uh, no,” Ash replies, and wipes his palms on his napkin to stall. “I was, uh—” he looks away, focusing on the food in front of him— “eating with the captain.”

 

Tilly gasps loudly. “The _captain_?” she asks. “Like, in his _quarters_?”

 

Ash nods, glancing around nervously. Michael’s raising an eyebrow at him, and Tilly is peering at him with interest, but nobody at any of the tables nearby seems to have heard. “Yeah,” he answers. “He, uh, said I can join him whenever things get, uh, get too much.”

 

Michael hums, considering. “That’s awfully _thoughtful_ of him.”

 

“It’s _sweet_ ,” Tilly exclaims, her voice slightly too loud for Ash’s comfort. “He’s taking care of you!”

 

Ash holds up a hand. “I don’t want this to—the captain doesn’t need any rumors spread about him,” he says, choosing his words carefully. He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s covering something up, because there’s _nothing_ that could be considered inappropriate going on.

 

Not that it would be the end of the world for anything to happen between them—Starfleet’s regulations on relationships toe a weird line between strict and completely lax, and Ash already knows that Lorca isn’t one to follow regulations blindly.

 

‘As long as it doesn’t negatively impact the functioning of the ship and the crew,’ is the unspoken rule, and Ash is of the opinion that interpersonal relationships are worth breaking rules for. Some things are just that important, and love, for Ash, definitely is one of those things.

 

Not that he would say he’s in love, not after knowing Lorca for just over a week, and not that he really thinks anything _might_ happen between them. But hope, even if nothing pans out, brings him a bit of light, and he needs that right now.

 

“So are you two, like, _friends_?” Tilly asks, her tone of voice definitely indicating that ‘friends’ isn’t the word she _really_ wants to use.

 

Ash shrugs. “I don't know,” he admits. “The captain is definitely, uh, looking out for me. Apparently—” Ash pauses and looks around to make sure nobody's listening, even though what he has to say probably isn't that important, but ships have ears— “apparently he has a job for me when I'm cleared for duty.”

 

“What kind of job?” Michael asks.

 

“Not sure.” He'll have to see if he can get it out of the captain later…oh, and apparently he's already made up his mind that he's going to ask if he can join Lorca for dinner again.

 

“Well, whatever it is, I'm sure you'll be amazing at it!” Tilly exclaims, beaming at him.

 

Ash feels himself beam back, and he feels warm. His new friends really are wonderful.

 

He spends the rest of lunch teaming up with Tilly, trying to figure out what makes Michael laugh, and the elation he feels when they succeed, _twice_ , lifts his spirits higher than they've been in, well, over seven months.

 

But he's still exhausted, and he turns down an offer of working out with a hologram program so he can head back to his quarters and try to nap. Tilly and Michael let him go, with kindness and understanding and well-wishes for a good nap.

 

Ash curls back up in his almost-dark quarters, and closes his eyes, letting sleep take him.

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes disoriented and groggy, and suddenly, sitting up with a gasp as the dim lighting chases away the memory of rough hands and sharp nails raking over his skin.

 

“Computer, what time is it?” he asks, his voice thick.

 

“It is 2100 hours.”

 

“Shit,” Ash mutters. He missed dinner. “Computer,” he says again, “put me through to Captain Lorca.”

 

A pause, then, “This is Captain Lorca.”

 

Oh, shit, Ash is still half asleep and he’s not sure if this was a good idea or not, but it’s happening and he needs to say something. “Sir, it’s Tyler,” Ash says, unsure of whether the captain is alone or not.

 

“ _Tyler_ ,” Lorca says, sounding amused. “Did I lose my dinner companion to Tilly and Burnham already?”

 

“No, I uh, I slept through the evening,” Ash says. He’s not sure how Lorca knows that he’s already close with the two of them, but he supposes it’s the captain’s job to know what goes on on his ship. It makes his heart flutter that the captain is keeping an eye on what he does in his spare time, though. And that Lorca referred to him as his ‘dinner companion.’

 

“Feel any better?” Lorca asks.

 

“Not sure yet,” Ash admits. “I might feel better when I eat…”

 

Lorca lets out a noise that Ash thinks is a snort. “Is that your way of asking if you can come over for dinner?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Is that an answer or a question, soldier?” Lorca asks, command seeping into his tone, mixing with the amused tone that hasn’t quite left since he realized it was Ash on the other end.

 

“Can I come over and eat dinner with you?” Ash asks, unable to keep the grin off his face.

 

“Of course,” the captain answers. “Lorca out.” He ends the communication.

 

Ash scrambles up, hastily changes back from his pajamas into his blue jumpsuit, brushes the nap fuzz off his teeth, and hurries out of his quarters and to the captain’s. When he gets there, he finds Lorca on the couch, half-out of uniform, black-rimmed glasses settled on his face.

 

“Tyler,” Lorca says in greeting, taking off his glasses and peering at Ash. Glasses in hand, he gestures toward his synthesizer. “Help yourself. I’ve already eaten.”

 

“Oh,” Ash says, “sorry.”

 

Lorca shrugs. “I said you could join me, wouldn’t have said that if I minded. I just have some work to finish up, so make yourself at home.” He puts his glasses back on and refocuses on his PADD.

 

Ash heads over to the wall panel and has the synthesizer make him some mac n’cheese. He wants something warm and comforting, and he doesn’t care if it might be childish or unhealthy.

 

He moves to sit down at the table when his food is ready. Before he can, Lorca, without looking up, says, “Couch is fine.”

 

Ash hesitates, the bowl of pasta half an inch from the surface of the table. The couch curves at a right angle around a coffee table, and Lorca is sprawled on one half of it, one leg up on the couch and the other on the floor, the PADD braced on one knee.

 

The other half of the couch is empty, and Ash follows Lorca’s not-orders and sits down there, curling his legs up under himself and setting the bowl down in his lap. The glass of water he places on the coffee table in front of him as he tucks into his pasta.

 

They’re silent as Ash eats and Lorca does whatever he was doing before Ash barged in and wrecked his solitude. Ash knows he should probably focus on his food, on looking around the captain’s quarters, on anything but what he’s doing, which is staring at Lorca.

 

It’s unfair, but the glasses make Lorca even _more_ attractive than Ash already thought he was, which was a lot. His brow is furrowed as he pokes at the screen of his PADD, his lips moving as he mutters to himself about whatever he’s working on.

 

Lorca is still in his uniform pants, but he’s taken off the outer jacket layer of his uniform, leaving just the tight blue undershirt. It’s... _very_ fitted, and Ash can’t stop his eyes from wandering down Lorca’s broad chest—

 

“Can I help you?” Lorca asks, once again without looking up.

 

Ash feels his face heat up and he quickly looks away. “No, sorry.” Lorca just hums. It seems like his attention is fully back on his work, but Ash feels awkward now that he was caught staring at—well, _checking out_ —his captain. “What job are you planning for me?” he blurts out, to try to break the tension.

 

Finally, Lorca glances back up at him, an eyebrow raised. Ash meets his eyes, against his better judgement.

 

“I just—uh, Counselor North mentioned something, sorry, I probably shouldn’t know that, but…” Ash winces at his own rambling sentence and makes himself stop talking.

 

Lorca sighs and sets down his PADD, taking his glasses off and resting them on top of it. He considers Ash for a moment, the intensity of his light blue eyes making Ash wish he were less disciplined so he could look away, squirm, break the tension. Instead, he looks ahead, steady and pretending like he’s not so completely gone for Lorca.

 

“Chief of security,” Lorca says, short and sharp.

 

“ _What_?”

 

“I want you to be my chief of security,” Lorca repeats, slightly slower—not in a condescending way, which Ash is grateful for.

 

“ _Why_?” is Ash’s next question.

 

Lorca chuckles softly. “I need someone I trust, someone _everyone_ will trust. Morale isn’t exactly _high_ on the _Discovery_. You’re a people person, Tyler. My crew will trust you to keep them safe. My last chief of security…” Lorca’s mouth screws up in regret. “Landry was good at her job. She wasn’t exactly the easiest person to deal with—neither am I, for that matter.”

 

Ash wants to protest; he thinks Lorca is easy to be around, but he keeps his mouth shut.

 

“She didn’t deserve what happened to her,” Lorca continues, “but that doesn’t change the fact that she was not well-liked among the crew. I have...an opportunity here, for better or for worse, and I _will_ take advantage of it. I’ll take advantage of the gift I’ve been given—of _you_.”

 

Lorca thinks he’s a _gift_? Ash’s face is still hot, and now that feeling is spreading to the rest of his body, warming him at his core in a way that makes his chest feel slightly too tight, makes his breathing feel too shallow. He’s overwhelmed and confused and _smitten_ and it’s all such a sharp contrast to the last seven months that he doesn’t know what to do with it all.

 

He’s always been an emotional person, always had a lot of feelings and never been afraid to show them, but it turns out that seven months as a prisoner on a Klingon ship can make all of those emotions a lot more difficult to process. He feels himself starting to panic and takes deep breaths, trying to be subtle about calming himself down.

 

Lorca notices, though, and casts his gaze around his quarters quickly before refocusing on Ash. “Shit, my tribble is still in my ready room.” He half-stands and scoots over to the other half of the couch—where Ash is still sitting, cross-legged, empty bowl on his lap—and wraps an arm around Ash’s shoulders. “Too much?” he asks.

 

Ash isn’t sure which part of this whole situation Lorca is asking about, but he shakes his head ‘ _no_ ’ anyway. Everything is too much right now, but that doesn’t mean he wants the captain to stop. He doesn’t want the captain to stop saying nice things about him, and he especially doesn’t want the captain to stop touching him. Ash rests his head on Lorca’s shoulder and breathes.

 

The captain smells musky and warm, something Ash hasn’t noticed before. He’s still panicking slightly but he’s calmer than previous instances where he’s been close to Lorca, and more stands out to him this time. Lorca’s shoulder is firm, and Ash wants to put his hand on Lorca’s chest, to find out how firm _that_ is, too.

 

He settles for placing a hand on Lorca’s other shoulder and turning his body so he’s half-curled up on top of the captain, uncrossing his legs so he can rest more comfortably against the other man. Lorca shifts, rescuing the empty bowl from crashing onto the floor and setting it on the other half of the couch before bringing Ash in closer still and rubbing soft circles into his back.

 

“I don’t want you to have to wait for me to be better,” Ash mutters into the captain’s shoulder, his lips loosened by the comforting touch.

 

“I can’t think of anyone better suited to be my chief of security,” Lorca says. “I’ve looked at your records, both from the _Yeager_ and the academy. You graduated with honors, you’re an exceptional officer, and every report has the same comments: ‘ _Excels at all tasks given_ ,’ ‘ _Great interpersonal skills_ ,’ ‘ _Strong leadership abilities_ ,’ ‘ _Puts people at ease_ ,’ ‘ _Great mind for tactics and strategy_ ,’ and, the most common, ‘ _Places the well-being of others ahead of his own at every instance_.’ You’re the kind of person I want in charge of the safety of my crew, Tyler, and I’m willing to wait until you’re ready.”

 

Ash isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he stays silent, trying not to feel overwhelmed again. This is new. All of it, but mostly the fact that he can’t process emotions as easily as he used to. And maybe part of it is that all these emotions are new, that even the good emotions are piling on top of the bad and making things confusing.

 

Oh. The bad. It’s not like Ash’s life has been sunshine and rainbows. He grew up with a single mother, and lost her while he was at the academy, and he got teased as much as every other kid with a soft and too-trusting heart. He’s had his fair share of heartbreak, of loss, of _pain_.

 

But nothing, _nothing_ compares to what he went through the last seven months.

 

Okay, so maybe overly emotional makes sense, right now. Maybe even the _good_ is going to feel like too much for a bit. It doesn’t make what he’s feeling any easier to deal with, but it at least makes him feel like it will let up at some point.

 

Ash feels his eyes start to flutter shut, and as much as he’d _like_ to fall asleep on Lorca’s shoulder, he should probably _not_. He pulls back, feeling Lorca’s hand slide across his shoulders as Lorca mirrors his movement.

 

“You okay?” Lorca asks, his gruff voice soft.

 

“Better,” Ash says, even though he’s not sure how true it is.

 

Lorca grunts and moves back over to the other half of the couch to collect his glasses and PADD. “You gonna stay?” he asks, nodding his head in the direction of the couch Ash is sitting on. “You can borrow a PADD, read a bit.”

 

It sounds enticing and Ash almost takes him up on it, but he’s _tired_. “No, thank you. I think I need to sleep.”

 

“Another appointment with Counselor North in the morning?” Lorca asks, already half-refocused on his work, as Ash gets up and makes his way to the door.

 

“Every morning, bright and early,” Ash promises, and heads out into the hallway with a nod of Lorca’s head.

 

He heads back to his quarters and falls asleep in his pile of blankets on the floor, the ghost of the captain’s hand on his back chasing away the shadows.

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Vee, who I'm assuming will be the only person who reads this, for yelling about Tylorca and just Ash and Lorca in general with me. Love you, can't wait to read yours!!


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